


Food Court Takeaway

by renn



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-23
Updated: 2013-03-23
Packaged: 2017-12-06 06:40:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/732569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renn/pseuds/renn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor and Peri track an alien with a taste for Mankind to a Hong Kong food court.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Food Court Takeaway

“You’ve got to be joking, Doctor,” Peri commented, kicking the latex-like full-body mask that the red gelatinous blob had just slid out from under. “That... thing… was pretending to be Human? Whatever for?”

“Does it really matter, Peri?” The Time Lord demanded, all but rolling his eyes with annoyance. “It’s getting away.”

“Yeah, at about a yard a minute.”  She pointed at their quarry, which slowly oozed its way over discarded bottles, rotten food, and used wrappers toward the alley entrance.  “And it’s not like we’re going to lose its trail, yanno? It’s leaving so much slime behind we won’t even have to call in the Ghostbusters to contain it!”

“Oh, very well.” The Doctor sounded quite put-upon; Peri could tell from the glint in his eyes, though, that he wasn’t as harassed as he pretended. He brushed off some dirt from a nearby crate, and motioned for Peri to sit. She hopped on it, grabbing and placing the body-mask next to her.  “It’s all quite simple, really. Our Friend the Slazpopulant loves Human cuisine.”

“Really?”

“Chinese is its favorite.”

“So it came a million billion miles just for some dim sum?”

“Er… not exactly.” The Doctor rubbed the back of his neck. “It likes the Chinese people.”

“Because of their cuisine? Their hospitality?”

“The way they go well with a ginger-garlic dipping sauce.”

Peri wrinkled her nose. “Ewwwwww.”

“Exactly. But, as you pointed out, it’s not moving fast in its native form, so—“

“So what? This costumey thing gave it super blobby speed?” She tossed the body-mask toward the nearest dumpster, wincing when it hit the ground not even halfway to its mark.

“That ‘costumey thing,’ as you so crudely put it, is a finely-designed biomechanical encounter suit. It makes the wearer stronger, faster—“

“—and able to slice, dice, and make julienne fries. Yeah, I get the idea. Still… Hong Kong over mainland?”

“More continental, perhaps.” The Doctor lowered his voice conspiratorially. “And the Slazpopulants have a distinct preference for Englishmen who eat Chinese.”

Peri made a face. “Way too much info, Doctor, yanno?”

“And you claim to be of stout character.”

“No, Doctor, you’re stout, I’m cute.”

“Peri….”

She sighed. “You have absolutely no sense of humor since your regeneration.”

“I have plenty of---“

“And, besides, our slimy friend’s just rounded the corner. Probably isn’t a good idea if it goes too far into the galleria.”

The Doctor visually traced the trail of ooze down the alley and around the bend. “Bother.”

Peri hopped off the crate and fluffed her dark bob. “I suppose we might as well—hey, Doctor?” Her companion’s Technicolor dreamcoat disappeared around the corner, following the slimy trail. “Oh, sure, leave the dirty work to me,” she muttered, stuffing the full-body mask into a dumpster. “Always cleaning up after you, and not even so much as a ‘please’ or ‘thank you.’  Typical.” She straightened the shiny plaid blouse covering her bikini top. It was a good thing she didn’t have time to change after their adventure in Seville—for once, she was actually dressed for the weather she was thrown into. Taking a deep breath of the hot, humid, polluted air, she steeled herself before following the slime.

The path took her to the street proper; the noise and hustling offering a marked contrast to the alley’s relative peace. A cool blast from the mall’s sliding doors soothed her. Air conditioning felt so nice, so… right… after the heat in both Spain and now in Kowloon. Still, she couldn’t linger, not and get to the final confrontation in time. Peri dove into the mall proper.

At first, she couldn’t tell which way to go, since the pedestrian traffic had spread out the oozy trail to the point where she didn’t know whether to go up or down. Sighing, she tried putting herself in the Slazpopulant’s place. If she wanted to be served Man, would she want to go to the clothing floor, the media floor, or the food court?

Duh. Food court.

Peri hopped onto the escalator and descended into the mall’s basement. Unlike in the States, where the food court got stuck in as an afterthought in a disused section of the top floor, this particular Hong Kong mall’s food court took up the entire basement. Food booths—garishly lit in neon, had huge bright signs that showed pictures of food, prices, and mostly-Chinese-characters for descriptions. The center of the floor held what had to be over a hundred tables, all radiating out from a center point like petals from a flower’s stamen. And in that center, hands on hips and an arrogant expression on his face as he scrutinized the court’s patrons down the length of his regal nose, stood the Doctor. He would probably shout at everyone next, demanding answers they most likely didn’t have, and getting even louder at their lack of knowledge. Peri had better diffuse the Time Lord bomb before he exploded….

She trotted over to the Doctor and gave him her most winning smile. “Heya, Doctor, whatcha doing?”

The Doctor frowned at her. “Are you actually dim, Peri, or is it just an act?” She continued to smile up at him, working to look as vacuous as possible. “Very well, I’ll spell it out in terms even you can understand. I am looking for the Slazpopulant. It is a sneaky sort of creature and could have assumed anyone’s form. Therefore, I am—“

“—throwing everyone off their feed by glaring at them. Besides, Mr. Slaz doesn’t have his costume thingie any longer. He’s probably hiding out in one of the food booths making like he’s dessert.”

“It wouldn’t stoop that low.”

“Wanna bet?”

The Doctor studied her for a moment, a hint of a smile playing across his face. “Winner chooses next destination.”

“Deal. You go terrorize the patrons more, Doctor. I’ll go find Mr. Slaz.” Peri surveyed the various booths, then headed for the one about 3 o’clock from where she was. She made a slow circuit around the food court, peeking into display cases and trying to glance into the various kitchens. She saw all sorts of interesting things—and some gross ones, too, involving tentacles and batter and rice sticks that she did NOT want to know more about.

About two-thirds around the circuit, she spotted something familiarly red and wobbly in a display case. The Slazpopulant tried desperately to become one with all the desserts in the case—the rice puddings, the Western cakes and cookies, the steamed bao filled with sweet bean paste, the fresh, exotic-looking fruit. Peri might have mistaken the alien for a popular American gelatin mold had it not manifested an eye to see if the coast were clear. It wasn’t. Quivering, it sucked its eye back into itself.

Peri casually approached the counter. “Ooh, that looks good,” she said, pointing at the Slazpopulant. “I’ll have that.”

“Yes, miss.” The man behind the counter pulled out a large knife, much more suited to hacking through joints of meat than through soft baked goods. “What size piece?”

“Oh, I want the whole thing.”

“The whole thing?” The counter man held his hands out in front of him, as if holding onto a huge ball. “Dessert very big.”  He moved his hands together, as if the imaginary ball suddenly deflated. “Miss very small.”

“I’m gonna share,” she assured him.

“With whom?”

“That tall guy over there, in the multicolored coat.” She stood on her tiptoes and waved her hands over her head. “Hey, Doctor, over here.”

The counter man sized up the Doctor’s girth. “That’s all right, then. I will go find a box big enough….”  He disappeared into the kitchen area.

“Well?” the Doctor demanded, striding up to his companion.

“See?” She pointed at the Slazpopulant behind the glass.

“You’re hungry?”

“No, Doctor.”

“If you think that jiggling crimson concoction is our quarry,  I—oh.” The Doctor sighed. “It would do a better job of hiding if it didn’t insist on looking around….”

The counter man came back with a two-foot-square Styrofoam take-out container. He scooped the Slazpopulant into it with a deft flick of the wrist, then closed the lid on it and tied the container up with string. “That will be $712,” he said, holding a hand out for payment.

Peri blanched at the amount. “That had better be some amazing dessert….” She looked at the Doctor for help. Her clever idea of ordering up the alien like he was a treat had suddenly run out of steam. Sure, she had some cash on her, but not that big an amount.

The Time Lord gave her a smug look. “A mere $92 or so, in what you laughingly call American money.”

“So you have a built-in calculator. I’m suitably impressed.”

They stared at each other a moment before the Doctor prompted, “Well?”

“Do I look like I’m made of money?” Peri countered.

“Oh, very well.” The Doctor made a great show of rooting around in his pockets, the supremely annoyed expression on his face letting both his companion and the counter man know exactly how much the inconvenience affronted his very existence. Finally, with a great sigh, he slapped a pile of bills and coins onto the counter. Snatching the take-out container from the counter man’s grasp, he winked at his companion before cutting a swath through the lunchtime crowds to the escalator. Peri followed dutifully; they reached the top of the escalator before hearing the counter man shout after them.

Deciding that securing the Slazpopulant far outweighed the loss of dignity, the Time Lord burst into a run. Barreling through the mall’s sliding doors, he careened around the corner into the alley, trusting instinct to lead him the half a mile back to the TARDIS.

Peri, naturally, wasn’t as fast, and couldn’t tolerate the heat and humidity as well. She made her way back to the police call box more slowly, even pausing at a convenience store for a moment to score a bottle of pop.

By the time she entered the TARDIS, the Doctor had dug out a stronger, concrete (or something that looked like concrete, you could never tell with him) box, and was trying to wrestle the Slazpopulant inside it. Little bits of Styrofoam littered the console room; the Time Lord had his arms and a foot and part of his chest enveloped in red gelatinous goo. The Slazpopulant had extruded a fist and pounded the Doctor’s back, making splatting noises every time it connected.

“Well, that’s a first—a dessert that fights back,” Peri commented.

“You took your time!”

“It’s not like I can move as fast as you, you know, especially not in this weather.”

“Perhaps if you lay off those fizzy sugar drinks, you’d be fit enough for intergalactic adventure.”

“I wouldn’t talk, Porky.”

The Doctor’s eyes bulged with indignation. “Porky?” he repeated. “Porky?! PORK—“ He silenced suddenly, the Slazpopulant oozing over his mouth creating an effective gag.

“Oh, dear….” Peri circled the tableau, wondering where to start in separating them without getting caught herself. When she came into the Doctor’s line of sight, he sputtered. Flailing rapidly for a few seconds, he created enough space to gasp out, “Pour your drink on it!”

“You nuts or something? It cost me nearly $8!”

“Pour it on—“ The Slazpopulant slid back over his mouth. The Doctor’s eyes remained uncovered; he pointedly looked back and forth between the pop and the alien until his companion finally gave in.

“Oh, okay, Doctor, but you totally owe me a new one.” Peri held the bottle over the alien, turned it over, and watched as the bubbly brown liquid splattered onto the Slazpopulant.

The alien immediately quieted. Shrinking away from its hold on the Doctor, it collapsed into the box with a defeated raspberry-like hiss. The Doctor slammed the lid on the box and settled on top of it, adjusting cuffs and collars in an attempt to restore both appearance and dignity.

Peri chucked the empty bottle in a corner, then glared at the Doctor, arms folded across chest. He said nothing, merely continuing to prune himself. She indulged his ego for another half-minute, then demanded, “Okay, so what did the pop do to Mr. Slaz?”

“The caffeine acts as a depressant—slows it down, makes it more cooperative.”

“If you say so. Still—you owe me a new pop.”

The Doctor nodded. “As soon as we drop off our friend.” He stood, patting the lid. “Have a seat, Peri. We don’t want it escaping before it’s back home.”

Peri balanced on the concrete-like box. “How long will it take?”

“Oh, a sennight or so.”

“What’s that in American?”

“A week.”

“What?!” Peri sputtered. “I’m not sitting here for the next seven days! How am I supposed to sleep?”

The Doctor pursed his lips. “Carefully?”

“That’s no help at all!”

He put his hands on his hips. “I suppose I could spell you every so often. A Time Lord doesn’t need much sleep, after all.”

“Great! Then you can take over while I take a shower.“ Peri hopped off the box and scurried through the interior door before the Doctor could lodge a protest.

He kicked the box once to show who the boss was before flipping his coat skirt up and squatting on it. Knowing his companion, he would be stuck playing prison guard for several hours.

“You’ve got to be joking, Doctor,” Peri commented, kicking the latex-like full-body mask that the red gelatinous blob had just slid out from under. “That... thing… was pretending to be Human? Whatever for?”

“Does it really matter, Peri?” The Time Lord demanded, all but rolling his eyes with annoyance. “It’s getting away.”

“Yeah, at about a yard a minute.”  She pointed at their quarry, which slowly oozed its way over discarded bottles, rotten food, and used wrappers toward the alley entrance.  “And it’s not like we’re going to lose its trail, yanno? It’s leaving so much slime behind we won’t even have to call in the Ghostbusters to contain it!”

“Oh, very well.” The Doctor sounded quite put-upon; Peri could tell from the glint in his eyes, though, that he wasn’t as harassed as he pretended. He brushed off some dirt from a nearby crate, and motioned for Peri to sit. She hopped on it, grabbing and placing the body-mask next to her.  “It’s all quite simple, really. Our Friend the Slazpopulant loves Human cuisine.”

“Really?”

“Chinese is its favorite.”

“So it came a million billion miles just for some dim sum?”

“Er… not exactly.” The Doctor rubbed the back of his neck. “It likes the Chinese people.”

“Because of their cuisine? Their hospitality?”

“The way they go well with a ginger-garlic dipping sauce.”

Peri wrinkled her nose. “Ewwwwww.”

“Exactly. But, as you pointed out, it’s not moving fast in its native form, so—“

“So what? This costumey thing gave it super blobby speed?” She tossed the body-mask toward the nearest dumpster, wincing when it hit the ground not even halfway to its mark.

“That ‘costumey thing,’ as you so crudely put it, is a finely-designed biomechanical encounter suit. It makes the wearer stronger, faster—“

“—and able to slice, dice, and make julienne fries. Yeah, I get the idea. Still… Hong Kong over mainland?”

“More continental, perhaps.” The Doctor lowered his voice conspiratorially. “And the Slazpopulants have a distinct preference for Englishmen who eat Chinese.”

Peri made a face. “Way too much info, Doctor, yanno?”

“And you claim to be of stout character.”

“No, Doctor, you’re stout, I’m cute.”

“Peri….”

She sighed. “You have absolutely no sense of humor since your regeneration.”

“I have plenty of---“

“And, besides, our slimy friend’s just rounded the corner. Probably isn’t a good idea if it goes too far into the galleria.”

The Doctor visually traced the trail of ooze down the alley and around the bend. “Bother.”

Peri hopped off the crate and fluffed her dark bob. “I suppose we might as well—hey, Doctor?” Her companion’s Technicolor dreamcoat disappeared around the corner, following the slimy trail. “Oh, sure, leave the dirty work to me,” she muttered, stuffing the full-body mask into a dumpster. “Always cleaning up after you, and not even so much as a ‘please’ or ‘thank you.’  Typical.” She straightened the shiny plaid blouse covering her bikini top. It was a good thing she didn’t have time to change after their adventure in Seville—for once, she was actually dressed for the weather she was thrown into. Taking a deep breath of the hot, humid, polluted air, she steeled herself before following the slime.

The path took her to the street proper; the noise and hustling offering a marked contrast to the alley’s relative peace. A cool blast from the mall’s sliding doors soothed her. Air conditioning felt so nice, so… right… after the heat in both Spain and now in Kowloon. Still, she couldn’t linger, not and get to the final confrontation in time. Peri dove into the mall proper.

At first, she couldn’t tell which way to go, since the pedestrian traffic had spread out the oozy trail to the point where she didn’t know whether to go up or down. Sighing, she tried putting herself in the Slazpopulant’s place. If she wanted to be served Man, would she want to go to the clothing floor, the media floor, or the food court?

Duh. Food court.

Peri hopped onto the escalator and descended into the mall’s basement. Unlike in the States, where the food court got stuck in as an afterthought in a disused section of the top floor, this particular Hong Kong mall’s food court took up the entire basement. Food booths—garishly lit in neon, had huge bright signs that showed pictures of food, prices, and mostly-Chinese-characters for descriptions. The center of the floor held what had to be over a hundred tables, all radiating out from a center point like petals from a flower’s stamen. And in that center, hands on hips and an arrogant expression on his face as he scrutinized the court’s patrons down the length of his regal nose, stood the Doctor. He would probably shout at everyone next, demanding answers they most likely didn’t have, and getting even louder at their lack of knowledge. Peri had better diffuse the Time Lord bomb before he exploded….

She trotted over to the Doctor and gave him her most winning smile. “Heya, Doctor, whatcha doing?”

The Doctor frowned at her. “Are you actually dim, Peri, or is it just an act?” She continued to smile up at him, working to look as vacuous as possible. “Very well, I’ll spell it out in terms even you can understand. I am looking for the Slazpopulant. It is a sneaky sort of creature and could have assumed anyone’s form. Therefore, I am—“

“—throwing everyone off their feed by glaring at them. Besides, Mr. Slaz doesn’t have his costume thingie any longer. He’s probably hiding out in one of the food booths making like he’s dessert.”

“It wouldn’t stoop that low.”

“Wanna bet?”

The Doctor studied her for a moment, a hint of a smile playing across his face. “Winner chooses next destination.”

“Deal. You go terrorize the patrons more, Doctor. I’ll go find Mr. Slaz.” Peri surveyed the various booths, then headed for the one about 3 o’clock from where she was. She made a slow circuit around the food court, peeking into display cases and trying to glance into the various kitchens. She saw all sorts of interesting things—and some gross ones, too, involving tentacles and batter and rice sticks that she did NOT want to know more about.

About two-thirds around the circuit, she spotted something familiarly red and wobbly in a display case. The Slazpopulant tried desperately to become one with all the desserts in the case—the rice puddings, the Western cakes and cookies, the steamed bao filled with sweet bean paste, the fresh, exotic-looking fruit. Peri might have mistaken the alien for a popular American gelatin mold had it not manifested an eye to see if the coast were clear. It wasn’t. Quivering, it sucked its eye back into itself.

Peri casually approached the counter. “Ooh, that looks good,” she said, pointing at the Slazpopulant. “I’ll have that.”

“Yes, miss.” The man behind the counter pulled out a large knife, much more suited to hacking through joints of meat than through soft baked goods. “What size piece?”

“Oh, I want the whole thing.”

“The whole thing?” The counter man held his hands out in front of him, as if holding onto a huge ball. “Dessert very big.”  He moved his hands together, as if the imaginary ball suddenly deflated. “Miss very small.”

“I’m gonna share,” she assured him.

“With whom?”

“That tall guy over there, in the multicolored coat.” She stood on her tiptoes and waved her hands over her head. “Hey, Doctor, over here.”

The counter man sized up the Doctor’s girth. “That’s all right, then. I will go find a box big enough….”  He disappeared into the kitchen area.

“Well?” the Doctor demanded, striding up to his companion.

“See?” She pointed at the Slazpopulant behind the glass.

“You’re hungry?”

“No, Doctor.”

“If you think that jiggling crimson concoction is our quarry,  I—oh.” The Doctor sighed. “It would do a better job of hiding if it didn’t insist on looking around….”

The counter man came back with a two-foot-square Styrofoam take-out container. He scooped the Slazpopulant into it with a deft flick of the wrist, then closed the lid on it and tied the container up with string. “That will be $712,” he said, holding a hand out for payment.

Peri blanched at the amount. “That had better be some amazing dessert….” She looked at the Doctor for help. Her clever idea of ordering up the alien like he was a treat had suddenly run out of steam. Sure, she had some cash on her, but not that big an amount.

The Time Lord gave her a smug look. “A mere $92 or so, in what you laughingly call American money.”

“So you have a built-in calculator. I’m suitably impressed.”

They stared at each other a moment before the Doctor prompted, “Well?”

“Do I look like I’m made of money?” Peri countered.

“Oh, very well.” The Doctor made a great show of rooting around in his pockets, the supremely annoyed expression on his face letting both his companion and the counter man know exactly how much the inconvenience affronted his very existence. Finally, with a great sigh, he slapped a pile of bills and coins onto the counter. Snatching the take-out container from the counter man’s grasp, he winked at his companion before cutting a swath through the lunchtime crowds to the escalator. Peri followed dutifully; they reached the top of the escalator before hearing the counter man shout after them.

Deciding that securing the Slazpopulant far outweighed the loss of dignity, the Time Lord burst into a run. Barreling through the mall’s sliding doors, he careened around the corner into the alley, trusting instinct to lead him the half a mile back to the TARDIS.

Peri, naturally, wasn’t as fast, and couldn’t tolerate the heat and humidity as well. She made her way back to the police call box more slowly, even pausing at a convenience store for a moment to score a bottle of pop.

By the time she entered the TARDIS, the Doctor had dug out a stronger, concrete (or something that looked like concrete, you could never tell with him) box, and was trying to wrestle the Slazpopulant inside it. Little bits of Styrofoam littered the console room; the Time Lord had his arms and a foot and part of his chest enveloped in red gelatinous goo. The Slazpopulant had extruded a fist and pounded the Doctor’s back, making splatting noises every time it connected.

“Well, that’s a first—a dessert that fights back,” Peri commented.

“You took your time!”

“It’s not like I can move as fast as you, you know, especially not in this weather.”

“Perhaps if you lay off those fizzy sugar drinks, you’d be fit enough for intergalactic adventure.”

“I wouldn’t talk, Porky.”

The Doctor’s eyes bulged with indignation. “Porky?” he repeated. “Porky?! PORK—“ He silenced suddenly, the Slazpopulant oozing over his mouth creating an effective gag.

“Oh, dear….” Peri circled the tableau, wondering where to start in separating them without getting caught herself. When she came into the Doctor’s line of sight, he sputtered. Flailing rapidly for a few seconds, he created enough space to gasp out, “Pour your drink on it!”

“You nuts or something? It cost me nearly $8!”

“Pour it on—“ The Slazpopulant slid back over his mouth. The Doctor’s eyes remained uncovered; he pointedly looked back and forth between the pop and the alien until his companion finally gave in.

“Oh, okay, Doctor, but you totally owe me a new one.” Peri held the bottle over the alien, turned it over, and watched as the bubbly brown liquid splattered onto the Slazpopulant.

The alien immediately quieted. Shrinking away from its hold on the Doctor, it collapsed into the box with a defeated raspberry-like hiss. The Doctor slammed the lid on the box and settled on top of it, adjusting cuffs and collars in an attempt to restore both appearance and dignity.

Peri chucked the empty bottle in a corner, then glared at the Doctor, arms folded across chest. He said nothing, merely continuing to prune himself. She indulged his ego for another half-minute, then demanded, “Okay, so what did the pop do to Mr. Slaz?”

“The caffeine acts as a depressant—slows it down, makes it more cooperative.”

“If you say so. Still—you owe me a new pop.”

The Doctor nodded. “As soon as we drop off our friend.” He stood, patting the lid. “Have a seat, Peri. We don’t want it escaping before it’s back home.”

Peri balanced on the concrete-like box. “How long will it take?”

“Oh, a sennight or so.”

“What’s that in American?”

“A week.”

“What?!” Peri sputtered. “I’m not sitting here for the next seven days! How am I supposed to sleep?”

The Doctor pursed his lips. “Carefully?”

“That’s no help at all!”

He put his hands on his hips. “I suppose I could spell you every so often. A Time Lord doesn’t need much sleep, after all.”

“Great! Then you can take over while I take a shower.“ Peri hopped off the box and scurried through the interior door before the Doctor could lodge a protest.

He kicked the box once to show who the boss was before flipping his coat skirt up and squatting on it. Knowing his companion, he would be stuck playing prison guard for several hours.


End file.
